


stripped of all barriers

by Blueberries (Blueberries_Pen)



Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [15]
Category: DCU
Genre: Kinktober 2020, Noncontober 2020, Post rape with audience, Prostate Massage, Slade is so offended lol, Whumptober 2020, but more of the super soldier serum variety, idk if this counts as aftercare but probably not, magical healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries
Summary: Robin is ruined, by the time they leave.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947430
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	stripped of all barriers

**Author's Note:**

> Day 15:  
> Kinktober: Massage  
> Noncontober: Rape with an audience  
> Whumptober: magical healing
> 
> If you wanna consider this as part of stripped to the bone you absolutely can

Robin is ruined, by the time the men leave. Covered in come. Broken, twisted fingers. Hands bent out of shape, legs crushed. Slade said they didn’t need to hold back with him - not with the serum in his veins - and they hadn’t. He crawls forward as best as he can, towards Slade’s feet. A trail of blood follows him, leaking from his ass like a broken faucet - they had put a knife in there, he remembers, said he wasn’t  _ loose  _ enough - and from half-closed over wounds on his legs and arms.

He trembles, opening his mouth to speak he comes closer to Slade’s. Words don’t leave his mouth - only blood. Dripping, choking,  _ red. _

_ Hurts,  _ is the only thing he can dazedly think. It still hurts. Slade’s serum didn’t get rid of the pain. That always stayed - seemed more magnified than numbed. His head droops, broken limbs collapsing beneath him as his head pressing against Slade’s boot. He whines, low and pleading and exhausted.

He doesn’t want to suffer. To be hurt. Doesn’t want to  _ be. _

Slade stares down at him, a little push turning him over to his back. Robin’s head turns to avoid choking on blood, instead letting it spill down his side and splatter on the floor and his white hair. His chest hurts, part of it oddly bent. Broken ribs, probably. With how much his breath was rattling and how he kept coughing up blood, he probably punctured a lung too. 

He doesn’t understand, sometimes, how he’s still alive. There has to be a limit, surely, to what can be fixed? But if there is, he hasn’t found it yet.

But that doesn’t matter. He’s here, now, and that’s all that does. He wonders if he’s done well. If Slade will leave him on the floor like this, or if Robin has performed well enough for some measure of comfort. 

Slade’s boot lands over his chest, pressing and threatening to crush him, and Robin’s heart sinks and his eyes fill anew with tears because he wasn’t  _ good,  _ because wasn’t able to satisfy his  _ master,  _ because - because -  _ because - _

Slade picks him, and despite the pain still blaring across his body, Robin relaxes as Slade settles him stomach down across his lap. He’s not being thrown away. Slade is touching him. This is fine. 

“You have no idea how much of a fucking mess you are,” he grumbles. “Smearing blood and filth across the sofa - I should punish you for that, boy.” Robin shivers feeling the weight of Slade’s gaze on him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, boy,” he adds, a hand setting over Robin’s lower back.

And despite the further pressure put on his chest by the position, despite his still broken limbs and bleeding ass, Robin still forces out a quiet, whispered, “Thank you, Master.” 

Because Slade’s hand on him is warm, because Slade has deigned to look after someone as fucked up as him, because he’s still  _ wanted.  _ He sniffles, trying to keep his rattling breaths and tears silent because pets should be seen and not heard and Slade doesn’t need Robin distracting him. 

Slade doesn’t focus too much on him, idly flicking through channels on the TV and petting his broken body. When he settles on a channel at last, gloved fingers carelessly begin to circle his bloody rim. They rub away at it, uncaring on the bloodstains it was gaining, and press in unhurriedly. 

Robin still shudders, more in memory than in true pain from that.

Slade fingers are big, and gloved, they’re even thicker. But Robin’s hole is loose, relaxed from the fucking and the knife that was slid inside it, and Slade’s two fingers enter easily, with the barest of resistance. 

They’re a comfort, something filling and  _ whole, _ after having his ass fucked for so long. 

He sighs, does his best to ignore his broken body, to focus instead on the steady rhythm of fingers in and out of his ass, fingers pressing and rubbing against abused walls. It’s comforting.

Slade just keeps methodically pumping inside him, and only when Robin has stilling completely again, does he twist and tilt fingers just so that they press right into his prostate. 

Robin whines, low, but it’s not  _ pain.  _ It’s nice, Slade isn’t going too fast, and he can just…  _ sink _ into that web of pleasure. it’s something to focus on, and Robin gladly does.

Later, when his bones have healed all too wrong, Slade will break them again, to set them, and it will hurt. Later, when Slade punishes him for making such a mess, it will hurt. Later, when Slade mocks him for being such a failure and fucks his rougher and harder than any other ever could, it will hurt. 

But for now, as Slade’s fingers work inside his body, relaxing his walls and stretching him out, bringing him that brief burst of pleasure, as Robin lies over the lap of his ever mercurial master - he can let go, and drink deep from that cup of relief.

In this moment, Slade is not displeased with him. Slade is touching him, not unkindly. Everything is okay.

Robin’s eyes flutter shut, and exhausted as he is, drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> After credits scene:  
> Slade: what the fuck. did this little shit fall asleep while I was trying to give him a prostate massage. fucking pain slut.


End file.
